


Hell Bent for Leather

by rebelwriter6561



Series: Getting Better [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Kurt tries to help, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Warren is a mess, still kinda enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warren enlists Kurt's help to retrieve something he wants very badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Bent for Leather

Kurt didn't expect anything unusual when he walked out of his math class. He was looking forward to a nice break before dinner with his friends, then a quiet evening learning English. He wasn't expecting a certain angry mutant to ambush him when he walked through the door.

“Hey, I need your help.” Kurt jumped, not just at Angel's snapped words but also his appearance. After getting out of the medical ward just a few days ago, Angel hadn't been out of his room except to steal a razor and shave off the remains of his curly hair, leaving uneven blond stubble behind. The marks on his face only served to make his ever-present scowl harsher. He was covered in still-healing bruises and cuts, and bandaged surgery scars were visible under his white t-shirt. It wasn't a good look for him.

The worst were his wings. They had lost all their feathers, metal and natural, and were covered in patches of raw skin. They arched from Angel's back like scythes, still dangerous and more menacing. Kurt couldn't imagine how much they had to hurt.

If Storm’s words were true, Apocalypse had created those wings, painfully ripping them from his body. But Angel himself had been the one who tore the last bits of metal away after the crash that nearly killed him. Kurt wondered if they'd ever recover, ever grow back as beautifully as before. He seemed unbothered by their state, but everyone else stayed away, frightened.

Kurt wasn't sure if he heard Angel correctly. “I-I...what?” he stuttered. Angel's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, possibly guessing he was about to teleport to give them some space.

“I said I need you to do something for me, Nightcrawler. It's important.” Kurt looked at him in confusion. What on earth could he be talking about?

“What do you want from Kurt?” Scott, wonderful Scott, stepped up behind Kurt, bristling and protective.

Angel met his gaze with a fierce sneer. “None of your god-damned business,” he snapped. Those angry-looking wings spread up, ready for a fight. One of the talons had snapped off, leaving a jagged dangerous edge. His grip on Kurt tightened, the muscles under his plain white shirt bunching.

“It's okay.” Kurt squeaked, not wanting a fight. “I'll help, whatever it is. It's okay!” He called the last part over his shoulder because Angel began pulling him away as soon as Kurt said he'd help.

Angel dragged him upstairs to the bedroom corridor, yanking them into his room. It was a mess - it looked like he'd thrown things around in anger. It was hardly welcoming.

“I need to get back to Germany.” Angel blurted out, closing the door with a snap.

“What? Why?” Kurt took a step back, confused and concerned. Angel had make it very clear that he did not like being forced to stay at the mansion - all but a prison for him, until the professor decided he was recovered and remorseful for his actions. Kurt couldn't blame him for hating the place.

But why on earth would he want to go back to Germany? Did he enjoy his time in the cage fights that much? Did he have friends there? And he thought _Kurt_ of all people would help him escape?

“I left something there, and I want it back.” Now that they were alone, the frown faded a bit, but Angel still looked like an angry mess. His arms were crossed around his body, holding his bare forearms. If not for his light bones and fast healing, they'd both be in casts.

“You want me to get you to Germany...because you want to get something?” Kurt asked, uncertain about the true reason behind Angel's request. It seemed too simple, like it was just an excuse to get away.

Angel noticed his hesitation. “I'm not gonna try to escape, or run off or anything.” He flapped his empty wings, whipping them through the air like tree limbs. “I don't want to be back there any more than you do.”

Kurt swallowed, because he would like to be able to go back and see his family again. America was wonderful, but he missed them. “What do you need to get?”

Angel scowled. “That's none of your business! Are you going to help or not?” He narrowed his eyes, fists clenching. “If you're not gonna help, I don't want you blabbing this to anyone,” he threatened.

Kurt winced, trying to put more space between them and only managed to get his foot caught on an overturned chair. “I might not be able to help. I can only go where I've been before, or what I can see.”

“Shit.” Angel hissed. His shoulders and wings slumped, and Kurt caught a flash of utter disappointment on his face before it went back to angrily blank. “Forget it then. Just forget it. Don't bother telling anyone - I'm not going anywhere.”

Kurt's heart clenched, and he felt bad. He and Angel weren't friends, but he still wanted to help the other. They had fought brutally, before - in Egypt and in the ring. Angel had tried to kill him, and Kurt was the reason he was in such battered condition now.

But that was all behind them - Angel was forgiven, even if no one else believed it. Angel had done terrible things, but everyone seemed to forget that he'd had terrible things done to him as well. Kurt could see past the anger, and the overwhelming amounts of pain the other boy carried on his shoulders. He cared, even if Angel treated him with the same disdain as everyone else. He had to help, if there was a chance to make him smile for once.

“Where is it? Is it in Munich, or Berlin somewhere? If I can get us close we can just walk there. I can get us over the Wall if we need to.” He grinned encouragingly at Angel when he looked at him in shock.

“You're really gonna help?” Angel asked disbelievingly. Kurt nodded in agreement. He couldn't be certain, but he was sure this simple act of kindness could really improve Angel's outlook. He looked like he needed something good to happen for a change.

“Okay...shit, yeah, it's in Berlin, East Berlin. The industrial docks on the north side of the Spree.”

“I've been there!” Kurt burst out, hopping in excitement. He'd tried to get a job there, trying to plead how his mutation could help, but was chased away. But he remembered the area.

Angel stared at him, something close to a smile on his face and hope in his eyes. “I know where I left it, it was this empty warehouse. We'll need to watch for guards and dogs. But if you can get us there-”

“Wait, right now?” Kurt yelped. He hadn't realized Angel had such urgency.

“Yeah, why not right now? We've got time before supper, it's dark there - best time to go.” Angel was practically bursting with readiness - he looked like the idea of staying at the mansion for one more minute would kill him.

“Oh. Okay then.” Kurt took a deep breath and flexed his hands, already seeing in his mind’s eye the spot he wanted to be. Still, he felt a surge of trepidation. This would be dangerous, and was probably very much against the rules.

“You nervous or something, Crawler?” Angel had moved closer, and Kurt was reminded how intimidating the other boy could be. They were nearly the same height, but Angel was nothing but solid muscle. Even in his mangled state, he was still dangerous. Though Kurt had forgiven him, he remembered what fighting him was like. It was terrifying.

“Not really,” Kurt shrugged his feelings off guiltily. “It's just...difficult, to go long distances. And going east to west, it's like I'm pushing through a wall. It's harder, for some reason.” Angel looked at him with a skeptical face, but placed his hand in Kurt's when he offered it.

Kurt closed his fingers around Angel's, squeezing his eyes shut. “Hang on, and try to focus on where we're going.” He tried to do the same, but was distracted by the closeness of Angel. This was so different - the last time he and Angel were this close, it had been during their last fight.

Kurt lost his focus momentarily, remembering the hot dry air of Egypt rushing past his face as they tumbled through the air. This could be a trick, Angel could be trying to escape the school, Kurt could be attacked and dragged back to the cages...

Angel sucked in a breath, and Kurt realized he was squeezing his hand too tightly. “Sorry,” he murmured as he loosened his grip.

“Stop saying sorry and get us there,” Angel grumbled, his eyes closed as well. Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. He imagined Berlin, the way the river would smell by the docks, how familiar the night would feel, welcoming him back…

It was hard - he could almost feel himself moving the entire distance to half a world away. Kurt stumbled and buckled when his feet touched the rough concrete outside a dingy warehouse. His chest and stomach ached, and he had to blink away the dark spots in front of his eyes. He was dizzy, off-balanced - it wasn't usually like this.

“Holy shit,” he heard Angle mutter. Then he was dragging Kurt, yanking him into the shadow of the building. “You weren't kidding. That was rough.”

“Yes,” Kurt agreed, trying to fight down his nausea. He knew other people felt sick when he moved them, and now he had an idea how that felt. He had no idea moving this far would hurt so much.

Angel's hand, he noticed, wasn't in his own anymore, but was resting on his back as the other boy scanned the maze of warehouses in front of them. “Okay, I know where we are. I know where to go. Come on.” His hand fisted in Kurt's shirt to push and pull him along.

Kurt stumbled as they ran from one building to the other. The sound of the river faded as they moved away, and the buildings grew more run-down, and the lights fewer. They had to duck, once, away from a pair of guards, but otherwise they saw no one.

Angel abruptly stopped, craning his neck up to look at a busted-out window far above their heads. “This is it, I broke that window to get in. We can get in up there.”

Kurt gazed at the dilapidated building, wondering what on earth could be here that Angel wanted back. He jumped when a hand landed heavily on his upper arm. Angel nodded up at the ledge along the window and tightened his grip.

Kurt teleported up to the ledge with ease, but they both had to scramble to hang on and find a balance in the minimal space. Angel held on to Kurt's shoulder while he used his tail to wrap around the broken windowpane. Kurt peered into the building, spotting a ceiling beam close to the window.

Angel brought his head close to Kurt's to see into the building as well. “It should be on the other side there.” He spoke quietly, but Kurt could feel his breath against his face.

Nervously, Kurt nodded, and carefully crept through the shattered window. Angel followed, much less gracefully. Kurt climbed along the rafter easily, unthinking of the height, and Angel likely would have done the same with his wings in better condition.

Angel balanced carefully on the dusty rafter while Kurt crossed to the other side. “Is it there?” he called. His voice echoed in the empty building, and Kurt tensed even more.

“Shh, yes, I see it.” There was a crumple of black fabric shoved into the corner of a strut. Kurt reached it and tugged on it carefully, recognizing the texture under his fingers. They brushed against cool metal studs, and Kurt realized what it was.

“You made me come back for your jacket?!” he asked in shock.

“Love that jacket,” Angel answered. In the dim light, Kurt could see his pleased grin, and it made any other words die in his throat.

Kurt held it up, surprised by the weight of it. It was large, but he knew it fit Angel well. He already seemed pleased to be getting it back. Perhaps this was worth it.

The warehouse suddenly brightened, as floodlights turned on outside. An alarm started blaring, making Kurt jump. “Shit!” Angel yelped, scrambling away from the window. “We gotta get out of here, now!”

Kurt started crawling back to him, but froze when something else caught his eye lower on the walls. Clutching the leather jacket, he teleported to the ground floor, squinting against the shadows. His stomach dropped when he recognized what he was looking at.

“What are you doing?” Angel yelled, but Kurt couldn't respond. His heart was in his throat as his fingers reached out on their own, gently touching the metal feathers embedded in the wall. They shone under his touch, deadly sharp and unnaturally wrong.

 _It was here,_ Kurt realized numbly. _He was here._

“God damnit- Kurt!” Angel snapped as the warehouse door rattled with fists striking it from the outside. Kurt jumped, snapping out of his muted horror. “We gotta go!”

Kurt jumped from the floor to the space next to him in a heartbeat. Angel grabbed his hand as the door splintered. “Go!” he yelled in his ear, as Kurt closed his eyes and tried to focus. The mansion, home, somewhere away from here-

Kurt felt his energy drain as they teleported back, and collapsed when they arrived. Thankfully, he'd gotten them to Angel's room, beside his bed, so he landed on his back on the soft mattress instead of wood floor. Compared to the danger they had faced in Berlin, the air here was still and calm, filled only with the sound of their panting.

Angel's panicked breaths quieted as Kurt laid there, staring at the ceiling, trembling from exhaustion. “God damn,” the other boy sighed. “Cut it a little close there, didn't you?”

Kurt said nothing while Angel straightened and took his jacket from his limp hands. Angel smiled at the clothing, running his fingers over the cracks at the joints and along the metal studs. He pulled it on easily, and Kurt realized the back was slit, just to let his wings through. Wearing it seemed to bring life back into him - he didn't look like such a mess, more like the mutant Kurt had fought in the ring. Just with new face markings and ruined wings.

“That place…” Kurt couldn't shake the way he felt when he saw those metal feathers jutting from the wall. He could only guess what happened there, and it made the nausea rise again. Angel glanced at him, then looked away. He sunk onto the bed, next to Kurt.

“Yeah, that's where Apocalypse got me.” Angel admitted. He bit his lip, scowling at the floor like it had personally offended him. “I thought I wanted them, those wings, but...It hurt. You have no idea how much it hurt. Worse than what you did. Worse than this.” He flourished his bare wings over Kurt's head. Kurt could see the raw patches, the places feathers would hopefully grow again.

“Never thought I'd ever go back there. Didn't want to be reminded again. But I realized I left my jacket. And I wanted it back.” Angel quieted, and Kurt wondered if he meant to say so much. There was probably no one else he could tell.

Kurt reached out a trembling hand and rubbed his fingers over the shiny fabric. Angel let him, frown fading from his face. He looked the closest to happy Kurt had ever seen.

“I'm glad I could help, Angel.” Kurt spoke softly. He tried to sit up, to give Angel some space, but his body seemed much heavier than usual. His surprisingly weak arms couldn't hold him up.

Angel got up and, surprisingly, laid down next to Kurt on the bed, face down, so his wings were free. “Stop calling me Angel, okay? It doesn't really fit anymore.” He played idly with the bedspread while Kurt tried to figure out what to say. “You can call me Warren.”

“Warren,” Kurt said quietly, testing. He could hear his accent slipping on the first letter. That, of all things, made Angel - Warren - smile and laugh. Kurt's heart soared at the sound.

“Good enough,” his new friend chuckled. 

“You can call me Kurt, as well.” Kurt offered with hope in his chest, wondering if Warren would. It seemed like such an easy thing to agree to, after what they'd been through together.

Warren turned his head to look at him, looking much less angry with his face smashed to the mattress, leather jacket hugging his shoulders. “Okay Kurt, I will.” he agreed, and Kurt beamed. It was a small thing, but it felt like such a victory.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen if I had a leather jacket as cool as Warren's I'd also do something stupid to get it back, just saying.
> 
> And I know Warren was wearing the jacket in scenes after he joined Apocalypse. But I'm willing to overlook that, just like I'm willing to overlook the fact that _Warren is dead at the end of the movie._
> 
> You know, minor details.


End file.
